Wish me luck as you wave me goodbye...
This week was all about the departing Hilda Ogden. Following her attack at Dr Lowther's house, Hilda had become quite a recluse and despite the efforts of a caring Sally and Kevin, saw little point in going on. Jean Alexander was a joy in these scenes, acting her socks off and clearly relishing her final storyline. A bleak mid-winter trip to Stan's grave was particularly moving. Before too long though, a bright new future beckoned as Mrs O was offered the chance to move out to Dr Lowther's country cottage and become his housekeeper. It was a bittersweet send off for such a glorious, iconic character but it all felt so right that Hilda got a happy ending.
The famous Christmas Day episode which featured Bet and Mike Baldwin throwing on a surprise party in the Rovers was warm, happy and joyful with the vast majority of the cast squeezed in the Rovers set. It felt like everyone was getting a turn at a final scene with Jean Alexander, with most of her fellow actors appearing in the iconic set of Number 13 over the course of her final episodes. I dreaded the goodbye when it came as there could only be one Hilda and one Jean Alexander. She was a class act and one of the main reasons these repeats have been so worth watching.
Bet's past is showing
In a glorious moment during Hilda's farewell party, the woman of the hour in one last classic instance of tact, dropped a subtle hint to Alec that Bet knew Mike Baldwin rather well, nudge nudge, wink wink. As the camera panned away, Alec visibly tightened in every conceivable orifice at the thought of his new wife up the ginnel with the Cockney lothario. This led on to several days of Alec and Bet bickering behind the bar, driving away customers (well Don and Ivy, so it wasn't all bad news) and Alec sleeping in the spare room.
Of course Alec had nothing to worry about as by this stage, our Bet was strangely devoted to Mr Gilroy despite his penny pinching ways, bad taste in sweaters and peculiar sexual mores. What am I talking about? Well, cast your mind back to Alec's sojourn to Germany with his touring show (comprising a blistering array of turns we'd sadly never meet). Bet and Alec enjoyed several saucy conversations over the phone and at one point swastikas were mentioned. Goodness only knows what went on in that pale pink boudoir up those Rovers stairs.
Fanny's on the rob
Fanny Carby continued to grate on my nerves this week as Amy Burton, slotting in to the now absent Hilda Ogden role awkwardly and without many positive character traits. Slovenly rubbing a dirty duster over the Rovers bar, fag in hand, she gave endless cheek to poor old Jack and continued to run rings around her idiotic daughter Vera. Percy Sugden had one of the lines of the week when he barked across the bar that Amy was a "demented old trollop" after she accused him of undressing her with his eyes. I should imagine nobody ever got past that hideous hat, forever suctioned onto her gob-laden face.
Just when Amy hit rock bottom, she started digging herself a hole under the viaduct. Whilst doing some typically 1987 shopping at Alf's (a packet of party rings, a tin of sliced pears and an industrial sized jar of Daddies Sauce) human cheese grater Amy half inched a tin of salmon, bold as brass. Little Sally didn't know what to do and when Amy the Arduous returned the next day to stick a family sized jar of Maxwell House down her drawers, both Audrey and Sally reacted like a couple of coma-bound store detectives. I can see how this will pan out. Alf will get exasperated, lose his cool and accuse Amy, who will deny it while Vera loses her dentures calling Mr Roberts all the names under the sun. Only to find out once again that she's in the wrong and her family is yet again comprised of lary, unappetising rejects from the pages of Viz.
Carry On, Cabby
Despite enduring a night out with Ivy, Jack and Vera earlier in the year, cab driver Don Brennan was back on the scene this week and he only had Ivy on his mind. This romance seems to have progressed quite quickly, with Don easily winning over Brian the Teeth and Gail. Don even presented Ivy with a very expensive gold watch (a quick dash to Ratner's in his Cavalier no doubt) but the viewers were left to ponder whether this fledgling romance had yet been consummated, or consumed as Hilda might have once put it (sob!)
Ivy and Don are quite a good match in these early episodes, all working class good humour and steak and kidney puddings in her front parlour. At this stage Ivy is still wearing that winter coat which makes her look like something from Fraggle Rock and her hair is very much that of a Vauxhall Conference footballer, but obviously Don could see past these minor trifles. Of course before too long they'd be wed, Don would have one leg, with the other repeatedly rammed up Baldwin's backside. And Ivy would be off her head, walking the streets of Weatherfield in her nightie before doing a midnight bunk to a convent. The way ITV3 are going through these repeats, we should be seeing those scenes in early summer. Something to look forward to there.
Jenny Bradley: Man Eater
I had a feeling Patrice would be back on the scene as soon as Alec started mentioning croissants in the Rovers. Sure enough, Jenny flamin' Bradley's fiance was back just after Christmas and as the pair embraced on Rita's vile couch, all we could see was lots of lots of very 80s hair - and that was just Patrice. Rita was obviously heartily sick of mentioning Patrice so every time his name appeared in the script she started calling him Patrick. Fair enough really, although I quite like him myself. He had a lovely little twinkle and provided a much needed quota of Eurotrash to the cobbles.
Anyway, their reunion was not all it cracked up to be, what with Jenny being a gobby mare, a juvenile spoilt teenager and a rather scary ginger to boot. There was constant festive skriking which made a pleasant change from Mavis crying into her Bailey's at the thought of Derek all alone in a bedsitter in Withington. One forgets just what a nasty-faced baggage Jenny was back in the day as she attended Sally and Kevin's party and copped off with best friend Lisa's fella, Gary. I have no idea why Jenny-from-the-ginnel felt the need to do this as Patrice exuded floppy haired Gallic charm while Gary Grimshaw was dressed like a disgraced radio disc jockey and had obviously suffered a sideburn malfunction.
Until next week!
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